var uid = '14448'; var wid = '294583'; An Older Mother | New world of Entertainment An Older Mother

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An Older Mother
#1
I feel his hot breath on my neck and the sound of his labored breathing in my ear. You might ask why, at my age, I am laying here on my back, butt hole naked with a man almost half of my 72 years between my legs, having his way with me.

The apartment - my apartment - is one of two above a bar. Mine is not the front apartment that overlooks the busy street, but the rear apartment, the single kitchen window overlooking a vast parking lot. The window in the front room looks out onto a 5' by 5' alcove, open only to the sky 30 feet above. The apartment seems dreary and dark. I have lived here for 46 years.

Here in the dark, oppressive bedroom, I lay passive surrounded by an assortment of bedding. Until a few minutes ago it was arranged neatly and I was snug underneath it. Henry had joined me while I was still sleeping. Horny, he had fondled me to consciousness. I had moaned my displeasure and spoke my desire to be left alone, promising to service him later, but he had not listened. Usually, twice a week he didn't listen. I had ceased long ago trying to stop him from stripping me of my warm bedding, my virtue and my panties.

I made not even a modest attempt to prevent him from mounting me as he sluggishly crawls atop me. I elevate my knees only slightly and place my hands lightly on his shoulders. He tries to support himself on his elbows but he is sloppy at it and my ample tits are compressed against his hairy chest. His body is covered with hair, but I do not find it repugnant - he is mine after all.

As usual, he pokes at my pussy until I place him. My petite pussy accommodates his well, as it did his smallish father. Without feeling aroused, I barely know he is inside me. He pops out twice until he becomes fully erect. My posture does not help.

Up until six years ago he had had a wife, but she had tired of the monetary issues that plagued him, his sloppy attempt to sexually please her and his constant complaining of his nonexistent health issues. I tire of his poking and acquire his cock, place it to me and he enters me.

He had worked alongside his father as a jeweler in our pawn shop only a few doors down from the bar. My regionally renown husband had taught Henry well to cut diamonds, mounting them in one of kind pieces of beauty. The business had prospered until his father passed away eight years ago. Now the windows are filled with dust and the well-to-do customers that frequented our shop do so less and less.. Our son, usually dressed in brown dress slacks and white shirt, stands in front of the store pining away his hours remembering days past.

He is grunting now, shoving into me with well defined thrusts. I have pulled my knees back, snugging them against his hips, giving his cock better access, but I remain passive, pondering once more that night, six years ago, he had come to my apartment drunk. Knowing better than to let him in in such a state, he had refused to leave and I relented. He immediately began to complain, following me about, about his wife's discontentment and her refusal to lay with him. He

complained about the stress of expecting and wanting more out of life, about how it had all gone to shit when his father had died.

In truth, it had all gone to shit when the authorities had caught him dealing in stolen diamonds. He had turned snitch which had kept him from doing hard time but his reputation was shattered along with the business. He was continuously looking over his shoulder.

He never accepted blame for anything. He didn't that night! For, afterward, after subduing me, after fucking me, he voiced it was not his fault I had not been more forceful in fighting off his advances, had not argued successfully against his accusation of me being one of the women against him, that I owed him. My reminding him that I was his mother was brushed aside because, he had rationalized, I had a sterile pussy between my legs.

I had fought! Oh, how I had fought! And, I had reasoned! I was still mostly dressed but breathless and panty-less, when I sought sanctuary in the bathroom, I was lifted onto the bathroom counter. My legs pried apart and lifted he had taken hold of his cock and penetrated me, telling me, blaming me for his worry and built up stress, how bad he need some pussy and, and again, how I owed him. He had fucked me - there is no other word for it - like a crazed animal, pumping into me with a frantic rhythm and coming in just over a minute.

As I cried, my left hand trying to stifle my sobbing, his cock had deflated out of me, more so than him pulling it out. Looking down, I saw it so. That, and a single thread of ejaculate from the head of his cock to my soiled vagina. I deemed my elevated breathing was from my struggles.

His stress released, he was instantly remorseful in a fit of frustration at his weakness and actions. I sucked it up and I did what all mothers do! I consoled him, telling him all was okay, that I loved him and would always be there for him. You see! my lost virtue was never going to return. But there was something deeper, deeper in my loins that had surfaced - even at my age of, then, 66. I hugged him tightly, then, we kissed on the lips.

My motherly consoling and the ever deepening passionate kiss resulted in my bare ass being cradled and carried to my bedroom. Deposited on the bed, I did not resist being totally stripped. I watched him strip, the hall light back lighting him. I was promptly mounted, me, accepting him between my legs. We again kissed, more lustfully, as he rubbed his limp cock against my pussy. When I felt him harden, I reached between us to place him to me and we coupled. We fucked - there is no other word for it! He had grabbed my ass with both hands. I hugged him tightly. And, we fucked.

Two years earlier my active sex life had ended, so you see, it had been two years for me. I had had, unknowingly, my own pent up stress. I was now actively engaged, praying his less than ample cock would remain erect, and I could correct for his sloppy, inattentive intercourse, until I climbed the ladder and reached orgasm. It did and I did.

So, here I am again for the umpteenth time, flat on my back, letting my son screw me. I am now officially old but still expected to sexually service his as he has no one else.. He is still sloppy and inattentive. I am, as now, usually passive and rarely find myself being aroused.

He has been at me now for quite a few minutes. I find my knees lifting, my feet now flat on the bed. It has been six or more weeks since I became feisty. That time had ended badly and I ended up masturbating which I having never found satisfying.

"Henry, are you getting close?"

"No, mama, I can't get my mind right."

"I'll help you! I'll help you keep it up and get your mind right but you have to try and hold it until I come."

"Do you want me to kiss it?"

I know his offer is a selfish one. To make me orgasm during intercourse requires him to concentrate. And, it is a lengthy, sometimes futile, exercise. I would have to admit oral is easier on my bones, so, I surrender to my desire to orgasm over my desire for intercourse. I put my feet on his shoulders, after we disengage and he maneuvers down.

"Come on, Henry, be good to mama's pussy!" I suggest, meaning for him to stick his in my pussy and tongue fuck me. "you know how I like it."

I am proactive now, pulling his ears and hair, and moaning. I am reluctant to offer him lustful and vulgar banter, as I sometimes do, though distasteful, if I just want him to finish and get off of me, as it has the same effect on me. His tongue enters me for the third time. I know he is my son and I still feel shame, but he needs to pay for violating me. It took weeks of condemnation and nagging to get him to go down on me. It took a bit more to brow beat him into sticking his tongue in me.

When he returns to my clit, I will likely come! Then, I will be content to accept him back between mu legs. "AAAaahhhhhhhhhhh!"

The orgasm sweeps over me! They are not as strong as they used to. They tend to tire me and now I will be subjected to Henry on top of me shoving into my pussy and pounding my ass to achieve his second orgasm. His weight is claustrophobic. But, walking the 18 stairs to my apartment and the hour of walking in the afternoon has kept me fit and I am still able to endure the abuse.

"Tell me your pussy will always be mine?" He pleads as he has in the past.

"You will never own my pussy!" I assure him in another attempt at payment for his indiscretion. "Come in me and mark it as your own, but it will only remain yours until I let the next man between my legs and he ejaculates into my pussy. Then, it will be his."

We play this game often. We both know there is no man waiting to take his place, but it makes him angry and he curses and calls a whore.

"You'll never own it!" I retaliate, swearing to him he will never own my pussy, wanting to add 'you small dick mother-fucker,' But do not.

"Damn you! You fucking bitch! OOHoooooooooo FUCK!!"

I have gotten my revenge and brought him to a quick orgasm, assuring him my pussy is mine alone as his orgasm fades. But this morning I do not want to let him off easy.

As he has for the past six years, he feels shame for sexual intercourse with his mother. He remains atop me unwilling to move. His limp cock slips out of me. His cock is not long enough, and because he does not shove it deep when he orgasms, his ejaculate, which is considerable due to the double deposit, does not fill my belly but only my pussy. If he does not get off on me soon, it will flow out of me quickly and I will be washing my sheets. Still, I lay there passive and wait.

He does not look at my face when he begins to move off me. Strangely, as an afterthought, he halts to suck my right nipple. Strangely, like a another afterthought, he halts midway and palms my pussy, inserting his middle finger into me. He wants to own it so bad!

I find him in the bathroom relieving himself. I step into the bathtub and adjust the water. I squat and, retrieving the soap, begin to lather my pussy, fingering myself to extricate his ejaculate. I see it drop out of me.

He begins to scrub his cock in the sink, knowing it aggravates the hell out of me. He stares at me and I know he finds what I am doing exotic.

"Did I please you, mama?"

"Yes, Henry, you please me well. You fuck like a hairy ape but you eat pussy real good."

"I will try real hard not to bother you anymore." He says apologetically as I towel myself dry. I've heard the vowel many times.

"It is no bother, son." I say to him sincerely, as I tap him on the back walking past him. "I'm going back to bed. I'll see you at the store later. Don't forget Miss Brodie will be in to pick up that ring about noon. She's a pretty girl and about your age, don't you think?" And as an afterthought, "You did a fine cutting and setting, but remember, your father did it years ago for her mother, should it come up. I promised."

She is not pleased with the hurt on his face.
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